death of akbar
What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal The traumatic holocaust, the loss of one of the greatest rulers in history, Akbar, is voiced in this chapter. Akbar had been suffering from a disease, since 22nd September, 1603, and his health was deteriorating gradually. The 'Hakim' in Akbar's court, could not comprehend the reason behind His Majesty's sickness. According to him, it was but a mild illness, and the Emperor's health would be restored gradually on its own. Eight days had passed and the only remedy given was patience; Akbar's condition had now become critical. A fatal disease had seized him. It now occurred to the intuitive physician's mind to use medication. Every medicine he gave, did wonders. Of aggravating the disease. The verse that explains his condition,
"Bid the druggist close his shop,….If it is prophet's balm fling it into dustbin'' with a subtle sense of humour expresses that it is the god of death himself disguised as a doctor.
Things started to become worse. His weakness was alleviating. Yet in his dreadful state of health, he would come out everyday in absolute serenity at the Darsan. In another few days, the disease gripped his body and mind completely, and he took to spending his hours in bed. The brilliant physician, now decided that his medical skills worked best when not put to use. This thought took birth either by the fear of Akbar's fury or the impatience of the inmates of the Harem. It wasn't entirely his fault, since the poor soul had been risen from the position of a dervish by the wish of His majesty himself, though he had not performed any service. When a similar slackness had been shown in the treatment of Shah Fath Ullah Shirazi, the Emperor had pointed out that although the decision was taken with the notion of his being useful someday, the opposite had happened. He had then lamented over the deaths of the two wise 'hakims' of the age.
"Bid the druggist close his shop,….If it is prophet's balm fling it into dustbin'' with a subtle sense of humour expresses that it is the god of death himself disguised as a doctor.
Things started to become worse. His weakness was alleviating. Yet in his dreadful state of health, he would come out everyday in absolute serenity at the Darsan. In another few days, the disease gripped his body and mind completely, and he took to spending his hours in bed. The brilliant physician, now decided that his medical skills worked best when not put to use. This thought took birth either by the fear of Akbar's fury or the impatience of the inmates of the Harem. It wasn't entirely his fault, since the poor soul had been risen from the position of a dervish by the wish of His majesty himself, though he had not performed any service. When a similar slackness had been shown in the treatment of Shah Fath Ullah Shirazi, the Emperor had pointed out that although the decision was taken with the notion of his being useful someday, the opposite had happened. He had then lamented over the deaths of the two wise 'hakims' of the age.